


Chain Keeps Us Together

by HecateMoon



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Mutual Pining, Peter Quill Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Stephen Strange is a Jerk, Survivor Guilt, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HecateMoon/pseuds/HecateMoon
Summary: The Guardians answer Thor's distress call during the fight between Hulk and Thanos. After failing to help destroy the mad titan, Peter Quill is caught in the portal that sends Bruce Banner back to Earth.What ensues is an adventure full of danger, anger, guilt, and an unlikely romance.





	1. Mr. Blue Sky

Star-Lord opened his eyes, seeing nothing but broken chunks of gravel and stone. The smell of burning _everything_ enveloped him, turning the slight ache in his head to a full out migraine that churned his empty stomach.

”Dammit, Quill” he hissed into the smoke and dust.

He was out of his depth.

Not that he'd never been out of his depth before, it happened every once in a while he could admit, but now... like _right right_ now he was _reeeeeally_ out of his depth.

Quill tried to move his fingers and then his hand, closing his fist around the sharp debris under his palm.

Maybe he should have thought this plan through before jumping in to a fight he wasn't ready for. He usually wouldn't describe himself as foolhardy, even at his worst times, but the second that freak had laid eyes on Gamora... _dammit_   Quill felt an anger spike through him he hadn't felt since Ego; A power in him that he thought had died with his monster-planet of a father bubbled up like a shaken root beer.

It had been a split-second decision. Quill jumped in to help his new giant green friend, joining the beast's plight to destroy Thanos.  He had hoped that his new simple-minded friend's strength would've been enough to pound Thanos into mush,

But that had NOT been the case.

”Peter!”

The two fought the mad titan viciously; One half terran- ... _terran_ , and one strong-af broccoli man against the all-powerful Douche King. They took turns delivering blows, but none of their hits seemed to have any effect. Eventually, Thanos had tired of them, taking Hulk in one arm and Quill in the other and hurling them 20 feet into the same crumbling wall.

The Hulk had taken the majority of the impact, grabbing Peter at the last moment and pulling him into his chest.

It didn't stop the debris from crashing down on him though _and GOOD_ LORD it had hurt.

**"PETER!"**

It felt (and probably looked) like blood was everywhere. He could feel it dripping from his mouth, mingling with sweat as it slid down his chin and onto the gravel. Absolutely everything hurt. _Everything._ The fall he'd taken had short-circuited his boots, he could already feel the sparks burning his ankles, and Quill's blaster was nowhere to be found either. _"Jeeez_ -" When he reached down to make the burning stop, he found that his lower legs were caught under the fallen wall. He was pinned- Pinned!

“shit shit shit” Peter Quill closed his eyes and swallowed.

Only an hour before he had been safe on his ship. He and the other guardians had traveled to answer a distress call from Asgardian refuges. By the time they'd reached them, Thanos had already laid waste to most of the innocent refugees on board. They had made quick friends with a (frankly too muscular) man named Thor and an odd green creature that was called Hulk.

Thor was no match for the mad titan. His weapon was literally turned to dust and his head was nearly crushed by the titan's hand. Then it had been the Hulk's turn. Quill jumped in to help while Gamora and the others battled Thanos' lackeys.

Quill had been so sure Thanos had met his match... so sure the large, crazy, green thing would be able to win....

Maybe Rocket was right,

Maybe they should've stayed on the ship.

**_"Peter, move!"_ **

Gamora's voice reached his ears like a call from heaven itself. She sounded desperate, scared- He needed to get up! He _HAD_ to get up! For her, for Gamora!

_get up get up get up get up get up get up get up get up Get UP._

"Come on."

He bit his lip and pushed his bloodied hands into the ground. With all his might, he lifted the wall up, leaving just enough room for the guardian to free his legs from the stone's weight

By the time he'd finally had his bearings again it was too late,  the titan was barreling towards his crumpled self.

Quill gasped and scrambled back, bumping into a large fleshy mound of green. "Hulk!"  The living tank was lying in a heap behind him, heaving and wheezing, eyes squeezed shut like he was in a considerable amount of pain. "Hulk, you gotta get up, buddy. He's coming."

The creature didn't stir.

"Hulk!"

**"The _beast_ has had enough." **

Thanos’ voice was calm... you know, like he HADN'T just annihilated a planet-worth of people. 

Quill did his best not to show fear, but it was practically a lose-lose for him in this situation. He was tired. He was hurt. All he could do was spit a mess of blood and saliva on the stones, blinking and blinking- “get up, quill. Get up. Come on.” 

The titan's foot stepped over the dark smudge of blood. The tips of his large boots brushed threateningly against the terran's knees.

"And what about you, boy? Finished?"

Quill slowly lifted his head to look at the titan's face. Surprisingly, there was no mocking smile or haughty expression. Thanos was simply regarding him, studying him like a curious child would study a frightened rabbit.

It sickened him.

"You are a brave one, I'll give you that." Thanos spoke, head tilted and hand lowering to grasp Quill by the back of his neck. He gulped and shook, the sensation making his blood run cold.

Thanos' fat fingers ran up the back of the terran's head to card through his sweaty hair with deceitful delicacy. He didn't like this guy, not one bit. This was the piece of shit who killed Gamora's mother, this was the blueberry that was running around destroying worlds like it was his job... like it was his _right_. It disgusted him. Well, if he was going to die at least he'll die while trying to rid the universe of this off brand oompa loompa... At least he would die trying to help the woman he loved kill the creature that haunts her every waking nightmare.

"No- STOP!" Gamora cried out louder this time. Quill could see her over the titan's shoulder, panicked face running to his aid. "THANOS!"

Thanos' hand dropped back to Quill's neck and tightened, forcing Peter to choke and claw fruitlessly at the titan's large fingers.   **" _Ack! Ga-ACK!_ "**

This wasn't cool. This wasn't cool at all! They were all going to die!

Gamora paused at her lover's distress. Her heels slid to a halt, standing mere feet from the monster's back. She took a quick but steady breath and the very universe around them seemed to shush.... or maybe Quill was just on the verge of blacking out,

Both?

"Thanos, release him."

It was a simple demand, calm yet stern. Quill thought it sounded pretty silly, actually. Daughter of Thanos or not, why would he ever listen to the girl that betrayed him? This guy was a destroyer of worlds, a sadist, a monster, a-

"AhUhck!" The guardian let out an embarrassing noise as Thanos lifted him to his feet by his neck. Clumsy legs struggled to find their footing. When he’d manged to stand, the purple fist loosened just enough to let air fill the smaller man's lungs. His abused chest shuttered and jumped painfully, coughs being subdued by Thanos' firm grip.

"Father," Gamora's voice softened, face switching into something more open and earnest. "Haven't you taken enough lives today?" She gestured to the destruction around her, to the dead littering the ground, to Thor's deathly still form sprawled out and soaking in his own brother's blood. "Look around you! "

Thanos did. He looked around himself at the fire and ruin, breathing deeply into the scent of carnage.

"Yes, but it was not for nothing, Little One." the deep voice rumbled. "I must admit though, your willingness to beg surprises me. Is it for _him_ , Gamora?"  The villain turned and looked Quill over again, eyes widening with sudden realization

"Ah, I see." He smiled. "The _boyfriend._ "

The hand that held him relaxed and Quill fell back onto the unforgiving stones, breathing in air like his next inhale might be his last.

"We'll deal with him later. For now, I have something more important to discuss with you, daughter."

”What could there possibly be to discuss? You assume I-"

“No." Her father overrode her. Gamora swallowed, holding her ground as Thanos stepped closer. "Don’t act coy, Gamora. We both know what I seek.” 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mmm. I think you do." Peter couldn't see the jerk's face, but he could tell her was smiling. Man, if he only had his blaster. “Where is the stone?” 

“I don’t have any stone, and certainly wouldn’t know where to find one.” 

"Ah." The titan tsked and walked backwards until he was once again in Quill's space. "You think I don't know you, Gamora? I know you better than you know yourself."

"You know NOTHING!" The woman screamed, patience breaking. A large red handled dagger unlatched from her belt as her body spun, legs carrying her forward. Her green arms thrust out with lightening speed, any other opponent would have been sliced clean through... any _other_ opponent. 

But this opponent was Thanos.

His large hand caught hers with ease. He ripped the dagger from her and pushed the woman back. Dark eyes met Peter's, a silent apology on her lips.

"I taught you everything you know, daughter. I taught you how to fight, how to be the fiercest woman in the galaxy.... but i never taught you to lie.” 

Thanos dropped his arm down and extended the blade, the very point rested inches from Quill’s chest. Gamora jerked forward, mouth hanging open, jaw working to form something ANYTHING that would still the dagger in his hand. 

"Tell me," He demanded "or the boy dies."

The terran shook his head, hoping that his friend would understand. He knew that look on Gamora's face. Whatever information Thanos was after, Gamora had. She was a lot of things, but the dick-face was right... she wasn't a liar. 

There was no use fighting him an there was no use lying. She was going to have to make a decision. 

“An instant is all it takes, Little one.” Her father sighed. Gamora blinked hard, eyes staring at the unforgiving silver resting over Peter's heart. “It would disappoint me too, i think.”

Thanos turned back to look at his daughter’s injured lover. His genuine pity made Peter bristle, fear draining just enough to turn his expression to stone.

”Pshh yeah, bet it would.” he rasped.

His enemy hummed, sounding amused.  “See? See how he rebels still? A pet ready to die for their master. He must really love you, Gamora.” 

Well, that was a backhanded compliment if he'd ever heard one. 

Gamora looked ruined. He'd never seen her so miserable... so _defeated_. Quill wished he could comfort her, wished he had told her one last time how much she meant to him. After all he had been through, all the hardships and woes, all the dancing and jokes, all the friends he'd made when he finally realized being the hero was his true calling in the universe...

It all had led up to this moment.

"Father, please"

"The _stone_ , Gamora."

And it was okay, right? He didn't want to die, but if he had to right now he was okay. It was okay. It was okay.

God, he wished he could tell her.

The emerald girl licked her dry lips. She was out of lies and out of time. "The stone..."

A flicker of light caught Peter's eye.

"...it is not easy to reach. You'll f- find it on-"

Not just his, but Gamora's too. Her mouth instantly stilled, eyes staring down at the other guardian's crotch like she'd never seen it before (not gonna go there). Quill looked up at her and back down and then up. 

"I don't even know what to say right now." It was a heavy quip, one that grabbed the attention of Thanos. The titan whipped around, teeth clenched and dagger falling to the side.

The light under his ass was no longer a flicker, but an extending great circle of runes. It pulsed like a heartbeat, flowing outwards towards the Hulk who was still half awake behind his back. 

"What's _happening_?" Thanos shoved Gamora to the side and stormed away from the glow. Quill could see him shouting at the Asgardian bodies at his feet.

What the hell?

The ground beneath him quickly began to sink as the light grew brighter. At his back, the Hulk let out a monstrous roar, using the last remnants of his conscious mind to instinctively claw at the disintegrating stones around him. Peter joined him, extending his hand out to grab for Gamora who was trying her hardest to lean over the edge of the circle. His exhausted mind was screaming "Reach! Move! Move!" but his boy was too shocked to properly obey!

His hand slipped from Gamora's grasp. So fast... Too fast... Too bright... screaming... roaring...

And then falling.

...

* * *

...

Quill braced for impact. The fall couldn't have lasted more than a couple of minutes, but it was the fact that it was a TERRIFYING couple of minutes that made it seem like an eternity. He felt his vocal cords vibrate, trying to scream over the roar of wind and crackling universe filling up the endless tunnel of "maybe" death.

"OH GOD!" went unheard as the Hulk's massive body disappeared somewhere ahead of him. _"Whoa! shit-  HELP!"_

A bright white light blinded him. The tunnel gave an unexpected jolt.

"N- n-n-n- arahh! "

His body sped up. A queasiness settled in the pit of his stomach that promised an excruciating and untimely end.

Falling- Falling - FALLING  -  
_  
"YEEEEHHHH_!"

and **CAUGHT**.

Quill cursed as his world was brought to a painless halt. A gentle, but steady force of energy pushed back onto his skin. The sound of whipping and wailing ceased. The sensation was an odd one, not unlike the weightless feeling of open space. His senses didn't come back immediately and, in the back of his mind, he could slowly feel himself begin to panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, welcome! This story has been in the works ever since Infinity War was released. Let's see how things change now that Star-Lord is front and center.


	2. Moonage Daydream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quill finds himself in a dizzy situation

The guardian's body had paused in mid air, hanging like one of those creepy puppets his mother used to keep in a china closet.  Despite himself, Quill gasped and flailed. He couldn’t help the rising panic twisting in his gut. Every ounce of his wits were taking their sweet time catching up to the rest of him and the effort it was taking to keep himself from freaking out was making him sick.

"This can't be good." Quill wheezed and swallowed against the bile creeping up in his throat.

He was so nauseous. GOD was he nauseous. He blinked and then squeezed his eyes shut. Colors danced behind his eyelids like little flashing caution lights, Sparks of blue and green laughing as he desperately tried to keep himself from throwing up. He felt like a little kid who'd just stepped off one of those stupid things on a playground- What were they called? A spinny-round? A round-about? Did that really _matter_ right now, Peter?

He snorted at his own pathetic train of thought and coughed. His chest hurt. The dull ache of it was throbbing painfully against the slight pressure holding his bruised body in place.

' _Gotta focus, gotta think. Come on, Star-Lord.'_

First things first: he needed to get down. Hanging around like a piece of meat wouldn’t do him any favors. _UUUGH_  but if he wanted to see what he was floating above, and _how_ he was floating above it in the first place, he was going to have to open his eyes again. 

Jeezz. What a choice: Open his eyes and face his dizzy-spell or be eaten alive? Well, as long as they go for his head first...

**"Strange! "**

"Yaa!" Quill let out a surprised yelp and opened his eyes, nausea taking a quick backseat to make room for fear.

Someone was here...

Someone was _HERE_. Shit!

The voice was not particularly intimidating, but it was still sudden. The half-human's heart beat against his ribs, fogging his head and sending a ringing sound straight to his ears. He quickly shook his head and counted to ten.

_'Breathe in... Breathe out...'_

 The shout sounded like it had come from every corner, like an echo bouncing off the walls of an empty room. His trembling hands reached up to wipe at his irritated eyes, red leather fabric scratching not-so-gently against his eyelashes. The doom tunnel of swirly death had been so windy and dry that his eyes were having a freaking meltdown! He blinked and blinked, green orbs finally capturing a glimpse of the destruction under his suspended limbs.

It was totaled... whatever _it_ was. It kind of looked like a staircase or maybe _used to_ look like a staircase. Wherever he'd fallen, the Hulk had obviously landed first (if the giant hole was any indication.) It was foolish of him to take comfort in that but, oddly enough, he did. To be on his own and facing a hoard of enemies had been one of his greatest fears lately. Having had a taste of what it was like to have true friends standing beside you, Peter Quill swore to never go back to the life of a solo outlaw again. There was nothing like family, and that's what the guardians were to him ...a family

_'A family that had probably been wiped out by Thanos.'_

No. NO. That thought had to be put on hold. It wouldn't do him any good to worry about that now. He needed to get a grip and break free of this hold! He needed to search for the Hulk and drop kick this disembodied voice into the dirt! His green friend couldn't have just gotten up and walked away after a fall like that, right? He was literally STARING at the hulk-shaped indent in the wood. Hulk was here, but _Where?_

His eyes scanned the debris for clues just as a second voice joined the blaring echo of his _maybe_ murderers.

 **"Stay back!"** A deep voice commanded. Quill's brow furrowed at the panicked tone. They sounded nervous, but why? Was the Hulk nearby?

**"Strange, What’s happened?”**

**“Dark magic."**

"Whaa-?" His mouth fell open. Strange happenings? Magic? Lord, he was being held captive by _weirdos!_

Quill tossed his head from side to side, up and down trying to locate the two chatting men. All he could see was rubble and darkly painted walls. He did manage to catch a glimpse of _something_ though. A moving limb under a few broken boards just inside the Hulk-made hole.

 ** _"He_** **is a master of dark magic?”** One of the men huffed like he was judging a fashion show.

 **"No... I don't know-  Let me think."** There was a pause and a crunch of boots on splintered wood. **"The signature is off. The vortex was open for at least twenty seconds. It released the Hulk and then _this guy_ about fifteen seconds later."**

**"He does not look like a threat."**

**"He survived a plunge from _space_. I wouldn't call that normal."**

Quill squealed when the gravity-defying hold on his body suddenly snapped and he hit the ground, flapping his arms around as he did so like a spider cut from its web. His bones screamed as they were tested against the already splintered wood and marble. His cheek made contact with a particularly sharp piece of debris, cutting a slice into the soft skin there.

"Bad guys. These are bad guys" Quill whispered over his new bed of broken shit. If he thought he was in pain before, it was nothing compared to how he felt right now. Bleeding, coughing, shaking... he must look like an abused dog waiting to be put down. Desperately, he tried to call out for his friend “Hulk!" 

If the green giant was nearby, surely he'd come to his rescue?

Both pair of boots crunched closer. As Quill was still lying face down, he heard them stop briefly near his head and then continue passed. He wetly exhaled in relief and peeled his bleeding face off the wood, trying in vain to push himself up out of the dirt.

No good. His body was failing him. Done. Cooked. Put a fork in him and serve him for dinner 'cause it's over. The spinning was starting to kick back in again too-  ' _Breathe, Breathe, You're okay- FgmmUGH!  NO. not okay, not okay-_

Bile and whatever he'd had left in his stomach from lunch spewed out onto the wood under his hands. His eyes filled with water, body shaking through the gags and heaves. This sucked. This suck SO much. He needed to get a hold of himself and get off the ground.

 _'Come on, Star-Lord- Come on, Peter.'_ His mind repeated that to himself again and again. He breathed in and out- The voices of the two men were loud, filling the entire space.

The guardian let himself fall onto his side, eyes half-lidded, trying to make out the blur of movement.

Both men were in his line of vision. One was kneeling with his back turned, leaning down over something on the ground that Quill couldn't see. The other slightly stockier man was standing facing Quill, eyes looking down at what the other man was studying. Their clothes were odd, not the weirdest he'd ever seen by a long shot, but pretty damn weird. The collar on the thinner guy's cape definitely had to go. Even a half-dead sack of flesh wouldn’t describe that thing as anything other than ridiculous.

"Dr. Banner, try to stay calm. Tell me what happened to you?" 

"Th-Thanos! He's- Thanos is coming!" A small voice cried out. The caped man ran a frustrated hand through his dark hair.

"He's in shock. No use trying to get a straight answer out of him now."

"No! Thanos! Tony!"

Quill didn't get it. The Hulk was nowhere to be found, but he had been so sure... Had he seen him? He couldn't remember! He couldn't think. He just wanted to sleep. The thought occurred to Peter that if these two weirdos were to stab him to death and eat him right now, he probably wouldn't care. At least death meant sleep. Just five minutes, that's all he needed, ten minutes... maybe fifteen.

"Ahem." The stocky man facing him had a nervous look on his face, eyes meeting Quill’s feverish stare with stern worry. "Strange, behind you. The other is awake."

The _other_. Pfsh! Like he was some one-night stand caught sucking on a Sovereign dick.

The caped man quickly lifted his head and turned at his companion's suggestion. Hazel eyes met Quill's forest green  

"Fantasti _c_." The amount of sarcasm dripping from that one word alone was admirable. "Friend or foe? Looks like we'll have to wait until Banner regains consciousness."

He stood and maneuvered himself until he was kneeling in front of Quill's mess of a body. “Odd. Look at his clothes..."

 _'Look at YOUR clothes'_   He wanted to say, but didn't have the energy. He was letting himself fade into sweet unconsciousness. Just a quick recharge and then he'd punch these guys in the face. No problem.

"Take precautions with that one, Strange; At least until we can confirm his loyalties."

The last thing Quill's mind registered was the feeling of gentle fingers pressing against his neck.

"My thoughts exactly."

 

 


	3. O-o-h Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stranger and the hero. *Torture Warnings- See Bottom

_"Gamora!"_

Quill's body trembled. Dark blonde strands stuck to his forehead, wet and unmoving against his sweaty skin. Dizzy... spinning... His mind was being ripped into pieces by torturous nightmares. They were relentless, flashing before his eyes like the worst drive-in movie _ever_.

This place felt like an oven. The sheets under his body were soft and cool against the palms of his hands and Quill clung to them, tearing and squeezing them in his fists, trying in vain to steal some of that relief for himself.

 _"No-"_  

The guardian could hear his own voice begging into the darkness. The feverish pleas meant nothing to the world outside his mind. One might think he was crazy . Sputters and whispers, friends and foes. He wished it would stop. He _wanted_  it to stop. He didn’t have time to spare! Gamora _needed_ him. She was calling him- 

_Get up, Peter_

Yes. Get up. Find Gamora. Find Thanos. Wake _UP!_

After one particularly harsh toss of his head, Quill felt a pair of strong hands press down on his his own broad shoulders. Whoever this villain was, they didn't want him to wake up. They didn't want him to find Gamora!

"N-No!" Quill's breath was coming in short erratic pants. Frustration at his own inability to come to had the legendary outlaw letting out a humiliating sob of despair.

**"Stop."**

Quill’s body tensed in alarm.

The thunderous command had come from a whole new voice entirely. It was deep, pointedly masculine, low enough to be called a rumble. Funny, it almost sounded like Thor. No, but it couldn't be Thor and it _definitely_ wasn't Gamora... Well, maybe if Gamora turned into some kind of ogre-like creature? Or like a really _really_ BIG version of Gamora. Quill would bet that's how she would sound...

Wait? _What?_

A cold cloth ran across his sweaty forehead, chasing the nightmares off with its cool taste of reality. The half-human hissed.

"Th-Thanos- "

"Seems to be a popular name nowadays." The voice answered. The cloth disappeared and the guardian felt a soft prick. Slowly, Peter found himself relaxing into the pillows.

Just a few more minutes... a few more...

...

* * *

...

There were no dreams of Gamora this time. No screams. No endless fog he needed to search through to find her. _Nothing._

His sleep went without interruption, almost unnaturally. The only lingering itch was a soft buzz of wrongness that hung in his thoughts throughout every second of it.

Somewhere deep within Quill’s subconscious, he knew he was wasting time...

It terrified him.

When he did finally wake, he noticed that breathing was _much_ easier. The clear painless intake of air, that he had so often taken for granted, was back. In and out, he savored the feeling and let himself doze for a bit.

Wherever he was, it smelled funny. A mix of dust, alcohol, and old people.

_Old people?_

Oh _God._ He was at a _casino_ , wasn't he? He'd fallen asleep on some old space-buzzard's bed while listening to her talk about every sexual partner she's ever had, alive _and_ dead.

No, wait-  That can't be right. He hasn't pulled a stunt like that since his late twenties. This was no casino. This was no cougar's palace... for god's sake he was still in his _clothes!_

_“FHUh!”_

Star-Lord woke up with a dramatic gasp, eyes flying open and mouth dropping to let out a short groan at his unfamiliar surroundings.

It didn't take long for his memory to adjust to the shock. He was staring at a vaulted ceiling. It was dark wood, old, and seriously dusty- like _really_ dusty. The ceiling might as well have been Yondu's trinket closet, full of muck and mold and every speck of dirt his boots had left there since first stepping foot into it.

 _Ugh._ He shuddered at the memory of having to retrieve anything from that nasty closet. Young Peter Quill had always kept his bunk on the ship pristine-clean. What was the point in owning anything if you were just gonna let it rot away?

" _Ow-_ Jeez" And speaking of rotting away, the mattress that he was currently lying on felt like it had been stuffed with rocks. Chunks of it were pressing into the worst places along his back. The pillow wasn't as bad, thankfully, But it did smell like an weird old lady perfume...

_‘Maybe I’m not wrong about the cougar casino after all?’_

Quill sighed and turned his head to look at the rest of the room. The entire space wasn't all that big. There was a small window to his left and a side table to his right. Every other inch of the room was floor to ceiling shelves of clutter. There wasn't a single open space that he could see along those wooden shelves either. Every spot was taken up by weird looking relics, plants, and the occasional dead thing.

"What the f-" What was going on here? This place was creepy as all hell! And worse:  he had NO idea how the hell he'd even gotten from the destroyed staircase to here. The last thing Quill remembered was tossing his cookies and wanting to punch a few oddly dressed weirdos in the face.  

‘ _weirdos_. _..  Crap! Where are the weirdos?’_

Quill focused his gaze on the open doorway.

Those two men had to have been the ones who put him here. Well, he certainly wouldn't be sticking around to shake hands. The dumbest thing those villains could have done was leave Star-Lord in a room alone. He was a master escape artist. He would sneak right out of the door and bash everyone he saw over the head with that scary mummified-dog-thing that was staring at him from the top shelf.

"Boom." Perfect. A flawless escape plan. Now, all he had to do was put it into motion, starting with getting the _hell_ out of this bed!

Quill smirked at his own cleverness and thrust his chest upwards, aiming to move himself into a sitting position. Not half a centimeter off the bed, his body was met by an unforgiving (frankly painful) physical force.

 _"Hucchg!"_ The hero wheezed and blinked, confused scowl erasing any trace of his cocksure attitude.

He couldn't get up.

He. couldn't. get. _**UP.**_

Something was holding him down. Something was _pressing_ against his body, pinning his arms and chest to this smelly old lady bed!

No. No! NO!

The guardian tried and tried to lift his arms, but they wouldn't rise. Out of breath, Peter laid back and turned his head down to search for the problem.

“Shit!” There were thick straps crossing over his body, two on his chest and two holding down each arm! The seat-belt webbing bit into his red jacket, indenting the leather with every toss of his limbs.

"Come on!" Quill thrashed from side to side, pulling and yanking. He was tied down like an animal! Tethered like a load of lumber! Breathing and counting to ten wouldn’t ease his nerves this time. These villains had him in their clutches and they were probably going to kill him or eat him or eat him and then kill him! Why weren’t these stupid straps breaking! Stupid! Stupid! 

While he panicked, a deep voice broke through his momentary fight or flight with a presence like a distant crack of thunder.

"Relax." it said. "You're not going anywhere."

The prisoner froze. Quill’s luck must be some of the worst the galaxies ever seen. Of course his executioner would show up just as he realized the full extent of his sucky situation.    

"Did you just tell me to _relax_?" Quill barked. It came out as more of a growl, parched vocal cords straining to speak over the dryness in his throat. Still, he wasn’t going to let this asshole get away with saying something _that_ stupid. "I'm strapped to a bed like Randle McMurphy and you're telling _me_ to _relax!_ "

Fuming, he turned his angry gaze towards the open door. Across the small room, a tall slender man was leaning cockily against the molded frame. He was human, as far as Quill could tell, with dark hair and a long but handsome (sort of) face.

 _‘Definitely seen this guy before.’_ The prisoner thought to himself. Weirdo #1 was still dressed in those odd looking robes Quill had first seen him in. The dramatic red cape that had previously been draped around the man's shoulders, however, was gone. 

"It's pointless." Weirdo continued, ignoring Peter's childish attack. "Those restraints are enforced by magic. They won't release until I will them to."

Pffsh! _Magic?_ Okay.

"Listen, man, I don't know what's going on here, but I really have to pee. So for the sake of your lumpy rock bed, I would-"

"Mmm-Yeeah no." was the guy’s cutoff. Quill sputtered and closed his mouth.

As if his luck wasn’t shit enough already. Turns out Mr. Cape-man is a total _dick_.

Truly. There was a smugness about this goatee-sporting creep that was infuriating Quill to no end. He looked composed, so perfectly at home treating this total stranger like a rabid animal.

"I'm not letting you off that bed until you’ve answered some questions."

Of course. Villainy 101. They always wanna know _something_. Well, fine. If Quill wanted to get out of this quickly, he was going to have to play along. He could absolutely pretend to do that... for a while.

"Fine. I give you answers, you let me go. Make it quick."

The man looked irritated, but asked his question anyway  "Who are you?"

"Star-Lord. Next question."

Unfortunately, his new villainous friend didn't look satisfied with that answer at all. Maybe it was the look of disbelief that told Quill that... then again it also could have been the way he repeated the name like it was a sour candy _._ "Is that your _real_ name?" He asked with a stupid quirked brow.

"Yeah. It is. Can we hurry this up, Houdini? Next Question."

"It's Doctor Strange."

"What?"

Quill scrunched up his nose, peering over at the figure in the doorway like he had just insulted his grandma. 

"My name." His captor hissed. "It's Doctor Strange, Not _Houdini."_

Quill rolled his eyes. This _Doctor_   _Strange_ had an ego that could rival Drax. Was a name that stupid supposed to impress him? 

"Doctor  _Strange_? What- Was _Señor Nutcase_ already taken?" The quip landed nicely. His captor's eyebrows had furrowed, carving a comical deep crease between his eyes. Peter would be lying if he said the look on the man's face hadn't won him at least a little bit of pleasure.

"So are we done here _, Strange_? Or..."

"You're not human."

The sudden change of subject made his head spin. Strange was choosing to move on instead of responding to Quill's insult. Surprising... Annoying... Impressive, maybe? That didn't usually happen. He could tell he had upset the man though. Strange was still leaning against the door, but instead of looking like he was bored out of his mind,  he was wearing a deep frown.

"You've gotta be kidding me. I _am_ human! Let me go!" That wasn't the whole truth, but he wasn't about to explain his daddy-issues to this jerk.

 "No." Strange pushed off the doorway and walked forward into the center of the room. There was a threatening air to his stance now, A heroic vibe that had Quill uneasy. It almost seemed as though Quill was the one that had done something wrong in this... like Strange was a knight of some douchy round table that Star-Lord was trespassing on.

"You're not human.” He repeated. “You can't be. A fit of dark magic large enough to conjure the Hulk to Earth would have mangled your body and melted your eyes."

"It nearly did!” The rebuke was weak and Strange knew it. Why it made a difference though, the prisoner couldn't fathom. Was this some kind of humans-only club? Quill didn’t understand. "You're welcome for that steaming pile of puke, by the way. Consider it a party gi- “

The man’s words belatedly hit him.

 _Hulk..._ Jerk-face had mentioned the Hulk! The Hulk _was_ here! Yes! Finally some good luck! 

"Where's the Hulk?" he blurted, sitting up a bit to press against his bonds. He couldn’t help his excitement. If the Hulk was still here, there was a chance that he’d survive this den of weirdos after all!

It didn’t exactly have the reaction he anticipated. Quill expected the villain to spout off his plan, to gloat and spill the beans. Strange did nothing of the sort. He just stood there giving him an odd look. Was his question the wrong thing to ask?

"Why?" 

"Curious. Not like it’d be easy to hide a guy that big." Hint hint (tell me your goddamn plan!)

The man actually looked surprised by that. A shocked expression soon melted into suspicion though. Maybe that _had_ been the wrong thing to ask.

Quill felt the restraints around his body tighten.

"I have a better question for you, Star-Lord."  Strange stepped further into the room and the trapped hero watched him, testing the strength of his bonds for the 80th time. "What master do you serve?"

 _What?_ _  
_

"What _master_ do I serve?“ Quill spat “What am I supposed to say? _Jesus?"_

His adversary didn't pause until his knees hit the frame of the bed. Hazel eyes locked on the guardian’s own rich green and traveled downwards, studying Quill from his scruffy face to his otherworldly red jacket. An uncertain expression ran across the villain's face.

"Answer the question or I _will_ make you. I won't ask again."

"Ask?” Hilarious. “Well, that's real cute. It sounded more like a demand to me. Is this how you treat your guests?"

"Only the uninvited ones."

"Oh, _my_ bad. Next time I plan on tumbling through a magic _death_ portal, I'll be sure to send a letter ahead of time!"

That last joke was all it took to break the man's tight composure, it seemed. Strange furiously stepped back, seething, eyes darkening into something demonic. A single shaking hand rose in front of his captor's body and the straps crossing over Quill became unbearably painful. The sound of strained leather reached him before the agony did. The bindings were pinching him, squeezing him like a cobra would its prey.

After a few seconds, Peter couldn't help it.  He screwed up his face and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings- Brief non-graphic Torture, Strange basically plays cobra with Quill's restraints ;)


	4. Lake Shore Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our two heroes make a discovery about each other, but trust isn't the doctor's middle name.   
> *Torture Warnings -See Bottom

_‘This is getting serious.'_  

A fair thought to have as one screamed at the top of their lungs while a crazed lunatic aimed to break their ribs.

 _‘But you’ve no one to blame but yourself’_   his subconscious annoyingly chirped. _‘YOU were the one who let it get out of hand! It’s your fault. You deserve this.’_

That may be true. Someone as skilled as Star-Lord should be a pro at getting himself out of sticky situations. Jesus, compared to some of the other shit he’s crawled his way out of, Magic-Man should have been cake. What probably sucked most was that he’d honestly thought he had this one figured out-

_‘You did. Remember our plan to play along?’_

Yeah, alright. He would admit this particular situation only went sour because he couldn’t take it seriously (a very _Peter_ problem to have). It was a bad move to antagonize this _Doctor_ _Strange_ without knowing what he was capable of. He was basically up against an attack dog, one that had (for some goddamn reason) seen Star-Lord as a threat. And to add a bit more rain to his already shitty day, the attack dog knew how to do some kind of wacky magic. _Great._

Somewhere in Ravager Heaven Quill was sure Yondu was shaking his head at him, sitting on some golden fluffy bar stool with the rest of his dead pals. “Rookie mistake, boy” he would shout and throw back a shot of the worst stuff imaginable.

And Yondu would be right... It was a stupid mistake.

Analyzing a bad situation thoroughly had always been the Ravager way. The life of a thief wasn’t an easy one. A much younger Peter Quill would be reminded of that nearly every day after being kidnapped from Terra. The Ravagers knew what it took to succeed in a business so cold. There were unspeakable dangers, enemies galore, the constant risk of imprisonment or death. One would think playing the part of the hero would be leaps and bounds safer...

Spoiler Alert: It’s NOT.

” _AHHH!”_

The straps briefly let up for a couple of seconds before the pressure on his body steadily began to increase again. Out of the corner of his eye, Quill could see his enemy’s outstretched hand- shaking, twitching, fingers spread wide,

Enough. _**ENOUGH!**_

“SSSTUHHS-STAAHP! STOP!” Peter screamed

That seemed to do the trick. His hoarse cries faded as the straps immediately loosened. Thick polyester slithered back to their original hold, sitting snug against his heavy intakes of air.

_Fuck_

That _hurt_....

Well, of course it hurt. Quill was just surprised it hurt as much as it did- _Holy_ _hell_   They were freakin' _seatbelts_ for crying out loud! The half-human had always considered himself a durable individual, life of an outlaw didn’t come without the occasional brush with pain, but this wacko’s messed up form of torture was a new (horrible) experience that the guardian hadn’t been expecting.

‘ _Well what had you been expecting? A hug?’_  

No. But he had thought Strange would at least do what most villains did in these scenarios: Gloat about their plan, get frustrated by his snarky comebacks, leave him alone for a few hours, and then MAYBE come back to torture him (if Quill hadn't already escaped by then). This jerk was doing it all backwards! The sassy outlaw throws a few jokes and gets tortured? Ridiculous. The punishment didn’t fit the crime!

It just didn’t make sense. What was Strange after? His captor was desperate for quick and precise answers, but why? Why so desperate?  _You’re not human_ he had said. How did he _know_?

Quill was still breathing through the aftershocks of his pain when he noticed the man’s trembling hand drop to his side. The shit Doctor had backed up a few feet. His intricate blue robes touched the shelves that were protruding from the walls. If there was ever a time Peter Quill wished he had his father’s godly powers back, it was now. He would pick that giant dead thing off the top shelf and drop it on Doctor Asshat’s head.

 _Ha_. 

"I didn't want to have to demonstrate my lack of patience," Strange said, taking a single step forward. “But I don't have time for games." 

A thousand inappropriate responses flew through Quill's mind and   _Oh_    it took _everything_ he had to keep his mouth shut. True, Quill had pushed his luck so far, but he was a fast learner. If he wanted to avoid pain, he would need to figure out a way to answer his captor's questions.  _'Easy as pie.'_ And when the questioning was done, he would reformulate an escape plan from there.

“Look, Man” he swallowed, trying to coat his dry vocal cords. “I wanna help you out, okay? But I don’t even remember the question. That’s not me being difficult, that’s just a fact.”

He should be given transparency-points and be allowed to take a piss. Wouldn't _that_ be nice... But he wouldn’t push his luck just yet.

He actually did have to pee though.  
  
Meh. He’d hold onto that comment for now.

“One more time,” Quill watched thin shoulders drop into a sigh. He had one of those stern looks on his face, like a mom who was done trying to get her kids to stop screaming in a restaurant. “What master do you serve?”

Ah, that’s right. _This_ question.

"I don't serve _anyone_. I’m my own employer, Doctor Weird. Ship and all.” 

Strange pursed his lips, eyes blinking rapidly. He didn’t look like he was buying it... which was RIDICULOUS because it was the truth! The last master Quill had technically served was Yondu, though he wouldn't call it _serving_ and he definitely wouldn't call Yondu his _master_.

“I'm serious!” He added, hoping his desperate sincerity would save him another round of cobra-hell. “Help me out here! I don't know what you want me to say!"

“You know _exactly_ wha-

"I DON’T though!"

Strange closed his eyes and took a breath, seemingly out of patience once again.

"Okay. Better question: What is your connection to the titan Thanos?"

What?  Thanos... This is about Thanos?

Quill could only shake his head. It looked like the whole universe was talking about that purple monstrosity. And what was that bullshit about a _connection?_   Had he heard correctly? What _connection_? He didn't have any connections to the titan. He’d say Ronan the Asshole had a connection to Thanos, maybe even Gamora had a connection to Thanos, but Peter Quill did _NOT_ have a connection to Thanos. Talk about barking up the wrong tree,

“What do you mean a- a _connection_?" Quill sputtered. "What _connection_? The guy sucks! He's a dick. He torments my girl.”  Did this guy seriously think _Star-Lord_ was some friend of that purple zit? “I met him _once_ and he tried to kill me-"

Wait. Hold on.

"Is... is that what this is all about? You think I'm some lackey of Thanos?” 

The guardian's mouth snapped shut when a flurry of blue robes moved towards him. Strange had suddenly thrown himself forward, long, pale, scarred hands pressing onto both sides of the mattress just above Quill's head. A distant thought was wondering how those hands had gotten that scarred, but the sound of tired springs crying under the weight of an adult man shooed those poorly timed questions out the window like a skiddish squirrel.

"You called to Thanos." The accusation was hissed, hazel eyes darkening again to their cautionary black. “You shouted for him in your sleep."

 _The hell?  Whoa._ No, he didn't! No. No. No. He does NOT call to weirdo purple psychopaths in his sleep. _False._

“ _What?_ I wasn't calling for Thanos! You got it wrong!"

Peter pressed his head as far back onto the pillow as possible, but there was no space left to claim. The villain was in his face, sharp angular features crowding his vision and invading his air. A dark lock fell from Strange's gelled hairdo and brushed Quill's forehand. It was scary having the guy this close. He smelled like soap, spice, antiseptic, and impending pain.

The bed jolted when Strange gave it a rough shove- out of frustration? To frighten him? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he wasn’t about to be tortured and maimed over a misunderstanding. 

“Why the hell would _I_ call Thanos? So he can come kill me sooner?" The hero’s hysterical laugh made his captor flinch. "I don’t even know HOW I would do that! The sleeping-me must be one hell of a phone booth-”

"Then _explain_ yourself.”

“I don’t know what you're _talking_ about! I was asleep, man! Maybe I had a dream about him kicking over my sandcastle. Sounds in character to me.”

There was an extended silence, nothing but panting breaths and awkward eye contact. Strange was considering him, taking him in again as if Quill were a puzzle with one missing piece. The missing piece was, of course, that Star-Lord was no villain in cahoots with a bloated block-head...

That also meant, Quill supposed, that Doctor Strange wasn’t the villain of this story either.

“I think there's been a misunderstanding here, Doc." He tried. "You're _against_ Thanos, I'm guessing?”

He held the man's stare. Strange said nothing.

“I am too. We're on the same side."

For a few seconds, the prisoner was afraid he might've misjudged. It wasn't until after a full minute, and at least five different expressions flitting across the other’s face, that he was sure he had said the right thing. His maybe-not-so-villainous enemy sat up immediately and quickly pushed away from the bed.

"Do you know where you are?" He asked, voice suddenly much calmer than it had been a minute ago.

Peter blinked. "No?"

"Earth." The man didn't leave any room for Quill to say more. "Roughly eight hours ago, you fell from a tunnel formed by dark magic. The Hulk tells me it was during an altercation between the titan Thanos and Thor of Asgard.” 

"Yes. Yes!” The prisoner couldn't help his excitement. He’d found common ground at last! “Exactly! I fell through a swirly magic hole with the Hulk- ...that sounded weird, but yeah. Yes to all of that.” 

”I’ve spoken with the Hulk,” Strange ignored his comments and began slowly pacing the floor, hands twitching oddly as his eyes scanned the room. "He doesn't remember you. He has no idea who you are."

 _what_?

 _“_ Uhh... Okay. Well, Hulk didn’t seem like the type of guy who would have a solid handle on names and faces...” more like the type of guy who lived in the moment and forgot about things two seconds later like a goldfish. “So what? Are you saying you don’t believe me ‘cause the Hulk claims he doesn't know me?”

"I’m saying I can’t  _afford_ to believe you." was the man's tight response. He’d stopped his pacing, wandering eyes never landing on Peter again. The asshole brushed some imaginary dust from his clothes and headed for the door.

"What? W-Wait!" Hold on. Pause. "What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean? Where are you going?”

Strange didn’t even have the decency to look back over his shoulder before exiting.

"Doctor Weird!" He continued to shout anyway. That prick could hear him, he HAD to hear him "You have to let me go! I...  I have to PEE, remember?"

He did actually have to pee, that was the _real_ tragedy. 

Quill laid his head back and sighed.

Getting his captor to let him go would have been nice, but Plan A would have to do:

 _Make a daring escape_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where's Bruce? We'll find out next chapter ;)  
> *Torture Warnings- Brief non-graphic torture, Strange basically plays cobra with Quill's restraints ;)


	5. Fox On the Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was taking me a little longer to get this next one out, so here's a shorter chapter for the time being. The second part will be out very soon! Enjoy!

Trying to recall the last 10 hours was a useless endeavor. Sitting safe and sound on a bed half a galaxy away from trouble was as worrisome as it was relieving and Bruce couldn't ignore the heaviness settled around his heart. His time spent as the Hulk was nothing more than smudges of thoughts and feelings. The left over aches and pains were the only horrible reminders of a lost battle Hulk must have lived through.

 

"I don't know. Does the guy seem like a threat to you?"

"He's a _moron_. That's my opinion."

Before his last transformation, Bruce had seen the villain's massive ship, seen the army, seen the _power_ that emanated from it all. Terrifying- It was _terrifying!_ The mad titan Thanos was a monster. He chased the Asgardian refugees through space until they had no choice but to turn and face the beast that haunted their every waking nightmare. Bruce remembered thinking how unfair it was. After their planet's destruction, it seemed so unjust that the Asgardian people would again be thrown into the middle of a war...

Of course, no one knew the word _unfair_ better than the Hulk's chew toy. Bruce Banner's life was one big green horror movie after another. Pain, Pain, and more Pain followed him wherever he went. It wasn't logical to blame himself for what happened between Thor and Thanos... but his tendency towards being a walking bad-luck charm ate at him more than he'd ever admit out loud.

Bruce would have _never_ expected to be hurdled through space though. That was one horrible surprise he hadn't seen coming. The scientist vaguely remembered reading one of Tony Stark's files on Thor a couple of years ago, back when the snarky playboy let him have free roam of his penthouse. It had Jane Foster's witness statement on the god of thunder's arrival. Talk of an unexplained amount of interference, bright lights, roaring winds. Thor had been cast out by his father's "magic", or so he'd said, and had fallen to earth through a colorful and slightly disorienting tunnel.

Now, _that_ sounded familiar.

Thrown down to earth in the heat of battle... Bruce Banner was alive and well, but what about everyone else? What happened to Thor? What happened to the ship? He wanted to call up to Heimdall like he'd seen the god of thunder do time after time. He wanted to scream to the sky and ask the empty air what had become of everyone. It was awful not knowing. He felt nervous, he felt sick, useless, alone.

But he couldn't let himself get worked up. He had job to do. Contacting the Avengers was crucial. What he didn't know hurt, but he couldn't let the unknown stop him from helping those he had left.

"...And I mean a _complete_ moron."

Bruce's most recently acquired ally went by the name Doctor Strange. Tall, lean, with a deep dry-witted voice, Stephen Strange was a name he had definitely heard before. The man was a famous neurosurgeon and had won multiple awards for his success in the medical field. Apparently, the famed doctor was now a sorcerer (as if things couldn't get any weirder) and was the world's mystic protector. It was a lot to take in, but at least the guy was quick to take Bruce seriously.

"-He claims to be human. Said his name is _Star-Lord_."

The scientist lifted a brow at that.

"Aaaand what? You don't believe him?" 

"Of _course_ I don't believe him. He's a lying, uncooperative jackass. "

The mouthy stranger in question had appeared shortly after Bruce did. Strange showed him the man's picture. A brightly lit screen of an iphone held the unfamiliar face. It was nobody Bruce had seen before. The maroon-clad warrior was laid out on a small bed, smaller than the one Bruce was occupying. He had sandy-reddish hair and a fit figure. Probably around 6 foot judging by the proportions.

" _Star-Lord_ , huh? Maybe it's a nickname."  If there was one thing he'd learned about space, it was that aliens loved their nicknames. "I mean, I guess it doesn't matter really. Did he say anything about Thanos?"

"He's anti-Thanos, according to him."

Bruce sighed. 

"Then why are we keeping him hogtied? If he's anti-Thanos then he's anti-whatever the hell Thanos is capable of. He's probably got a hell lot more information than what I was able to piece together from Hulk."

" _Unreliable_ information."

"Unreliable information is still something!" He didn't mean to raise his voice, but this was serious. The universe was waiting on them! "Star-Man could help us if we ask the right questions."

"Star- _Lord_." The doctor hotly corrected. "And if you want to attempt conversation, be my guest. Getting a straightforward answer is like pulling teeth."

"Then maybe we'd better try a different approach. No teeth pulling. Let him loose and ask nicely."

"Right." The sorcerer didn't look convinced.

"I mean it. We'll keep a close eye on him. Any funny business, it's back to bad cop. Sound good?"

Strange wiped a hand down his face, a sure sign of agitation, but he nodded.

"Fine. But I'll leave the "playing nice" part to you."

"I can do that." Bruce smiled and threw his legs over the side of the bed. “He calls himself Star-Lord. How much trouble can he be?"

* * *

**...**

_"_ Ugh...You gotta be _kidding_ me."

He was stuck.

Not trapped _,_ he was already trapped to begin with. No, Star-Lord was _stuck._

His plan was supposed to work! Slide up and free his forearms, then pull up on the bottom strap around his middle so he could slip his hips through. Unfortunately, he hadn't taken into account the protruding metal buckle on his belt. The sucker had moved at some point during his earlier struggles. Sitting an inch to the right of where a belt buckle should be, there was no chance of Quill just _sucking it in_ to get it under.

The defeated groan that came out his mouth wasn’t at all dramatic enough for the frustration he was feeling. Nothing in his life could ever be simple for once. It was like he was cursed.

Sourly, Quill dropped his head back onto the mattress. 

“Easy, Quill.” He whispered “It’s fine.” All it would take was some good old fashion problem solving! Like un-supergluing your index finger from your middle finger or freeing your head from a bucket, this would be cake. Logically, if the buckle was the problem, then he had to move the buckle. No, not _move_ the buckle... _RE_ MOVE the buckle. 

_“Boom!”_

Take off the belt! Duh! Obviously! Quill’s hands dropped to his belt and began tugging at the leather. It wasn't easy maneuvering while his top half was still trapped under the polyester straps. They were tight and pinched the skin above his elbow whenever he tried to twist one way or the other. He quickly undid the clip and unhooked the ends. Then, inch by inch, he began that painstaking act of trying to wiggle it out from under himself.  

"Come on, come on!” He hissed, humping the air in little ridiculous thrusts that would have embarrassed the heck out of him if he wasn't alone. “Little more- _Ouch_! al _most_... _**AH!**_ "

Success! The sound of his metal buckle hitting the floor with a thud was music to his ears, and Quill couldn't help grinning as he slid the rest of himself up the bed.

Every bone and muscle in his body screamed as soon as he stood, but he was too relieved to care. He'd done it! He was free! Now to get the hell out of this place and find a working ship!

Quill’s first few steps were a bit rocky. Weak and wobbly bones made him stumble and tilt. He managed to catch himself on the nightstand and quickly shook out each prickling limb individually.

“Easy. Taking it _easy_ remember?”

No more than a minute later, and little more carefully, he started walking again. The creaking floor did him no favors. It squealed and hissed like he was stepping on angry cats. Quill winced with every loud cry and tried his best to take long strides to the bedroom door. The hall was vacant, thankfully, not a soul in sight. Had Strange left? Was he hiding? Watching? The whole situation gave him goosebumps. He couldn't afford anymore blunders. Magic Man didn’t look like the type of guy that would mess around. If he was found trying to make a run for it...

Well, he didn’t want to think about that. 

Passed the door, an old frayed runner that looked like something his grandfather owned ran from one side of the hallway to the other. He didn’t have any other choice but to follow it, so he cautiously stopped before every open door to check if someone was inside. The rooms were empty, aside from some weird trinkets and towering piles of books. The guardian snorted at the mess.

“Seriously?” The number of books this guy had was just plain ridiculous. It was so primitive compared to what he was used to. What did Doctor Strange do with all of this stuff? Save it for firewood?

"I smell a garage sale."

Ha! Aw garage sales... now _that_ took him back.

Meredith Quill used to take her son to garage sales all the time. Peter’s mother didn't have a lot of money, or at least that's what Peter had suspected. His grandparents would hand her rolls of cash in the kitchen while they sipped coffee and smoked. He remembered how they’d walk the neighborhood with his red wagon every season. Meredith picked out furniture and clothes and this and that, but little Peter was always allowed to pick one small item for himself.

The memories were blurry, but you can’t erase joy like that from your soul. His younger self relished in those moments, walking from table to table in search of that perfect knickknack he would treasure forever...

Everything had changed the day his mother died. All the knickknacks and days of grazing through garage sales were gone along with Meredith. Every small treasure was left behind with the furniture, clothes, smoke, hushed whispers, and rolls of cash.

Maybe some lonely little daydreamer found the collection after he was gone. Quill sincerely hoped so.   

" _Ooo!_ " Speaking of grazing for treasure, it probably wouldn't hurt if Quill just happened to snatch a little _somethin_ on the way out. A guy with this much stuff must have something worth taking. Call it _compensation_ for the round of torture Strange had put him through. It's only fair.

The corners of his mouth lifted into a wicked grin. He could easily just waltz into any of these rooms and quickly snatch a treasure. He would just have to be quick about it.

"Quick. Right." Quill chose the very next door to slip into. Thankfully, it seemed the guardian's luck had finally changed! The room was full of small glass-cased objects, expensive art, and weapons! Books still sat in towering piles, but they were _fancy_ books (if that made any goddamn sense), Leather bound, gold painted, pretty things that made Quill want to touch and take. But he wouldn't waste his time on books. He was gonna go for something bigger (shinier) that he could pawn off, maybe even for a ship.

His thick soles squeaked against the polished wood floors of his enemy's den. Star-Lord had to act fast. Each step was time lost.

"Okaaaay, Pfffffff-ba-ba-ba" he carefully took in his surroundings, blunt nails picking at his scruffy face. It was actually a lot more difficult to choose something now that he'd had a proper look at it all. The objects were foreign to him. They resembled normal things, but had details that were... off-putting? They were confusing! The only thing that really caught his eye was a golden scepter that was fixed to a wall mount in the back of the room.  

"Bingo!" That would do. He was no expert on scepters (he didn't personally know anyone who was), but this one looked pretty hot and heavy. Guess that’s all scepter needed to be, right?

He smirked. A few long strides brought him close enough to snatch it. It was certainly a pretty thing. It was long, solid gold, and intricate. The emblem that was pressed into the head of it was was elaborate, but for the life of him Quill couldn't figure out what it was. Whatever. It didn't matter. What mattered was how much he would get for it once he busted his way out of here-

**"Um. I wouldn't touch that."**

_Shit. Shit. Shit!_

He was caught.

...


	6. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the second half of that Chapter. Enjoy!

_"I wouldn't touch that."_

Peter Quill gasped. Every cell in his body instantly froze at the sudden rumble behind his unprotected back.

Terror and dread pierced his heart like a cold knife. His panicked mind had thought Doctor Strange had caught him, thought the stoic (yet short-tempered) jerk would rage and Quill would be forced to face him, bare handed, right there in the dimly lit den. And the Doctor would probably win, wouldn't he? His enemy's power was still a bit of a mystery. The only thing he knew for sure was that he Strange _powerful,_ powerful enough to send one good looking, quick witted, outlaw to an early grave...

"Uh ha- Uhh. Just kidding," the voice then admitted. "I have no idea what that thing is, actually."

Wait, _what?_

The guardian whipped around. A man he didn't know, a completely new face, was standing just inside the wooden doorway. No weapons raised, no weird magic, no pain? It made Quill's anxiety immediately melt into confusion.

The man before him definitely wasn't Doctor Strange. His body was too short- not _short_ -short, but shorter than Quill's at least. He had a dark head of curls, messy and wet like he'd just taken a shower. He wasn't at _all_ dressed like the magic wielder. No, this new face was completely casual. A dark long-sleeve button up shirt and light colored pants were his flavor, it seemed. Everything read "not a threat" and, unless this guy had something to hide, Quill thought he looked perfectly pleasant standing there, fiddling a pair of glasses between his fingers like an elementary school teacher.

 _'WELL? Say something!'_ he reminded himself.

"Oh. uh. _Hi._ " Quill thickly swallowed and coughed into his fist, trying his best to match the other's gentle non-threatening air. "I was just havin' a look around. It's a nice little house you guys got here. I like all the... uhh... _dust_. It's very well arranged _."_

He thought that should do. Awkwardness wasn't always the best characteristic to showcase, but it certainly came off as "cool and calm". Gamora's approach of "stiff and serious" never usually broke the ice. More often than not, Peter was left floundering in awkward-city after a tense encounter between the daughter of Thanos and anyone who was unlucky enough to greet her first. This guy didn't seem to mind a little awkwardness though, he even laughed.

"Heh. I wouldn't exactly call this place _little_." The brunette spoke between chortles. "This place is a lot bigger than it looks."

Quill stepped back when the other suddenly walked closer. Dark eyes flickered up to study the guardian's tense posture, almost looking apologetic. "Sorry if I surprised you. I haven't really had the chance to look around yet either. This is my first time on the third floor."

"Oh yeah. Me too. Me too." Was all the prisoner could think to reply. He was on the third floor? How many floors were there?

It was quiet for a few moments. The shorter man was leaning over a glass case, looking at whatever was inside like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. Feeling anxious, Quill shuffled his feet and glanced at the door. He couldn't just push the guy over and run out. If this was the third floor, then he would have to find a stairway or elevator. The man would catch up to him for sure, and Quill still had no idea who he even was! What if shorty had magic seatbelts too! He was obviously a pal of Doctor Strange, he wouldn't be walking around freely if he wasn't _._ Maybe he was just faking the whole "calm cool and collected" act. Maybe Strange KNEW he would try to escape and now _this_ guy was gonna pull some magic out of his ass and kill him!

The man suddenly turned his head, like he had sensed Quill's rising panic.

"Hey, take it easy. You don't have to look so freaked out." he said. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

The tone was genuine, but did nothing to quell the guardian's nerves. If anything, it made them worse! _Ugh!_ He hated being called out. His face was heating up with embarrassment, he could feel it. His cheeks must be as red as his jacket! Even a much _younger_ Peter had never been good at hiding his emotions; Yondu used to remind him of that daily. "Mind your face, boy" he'd growl whenever the child's fearless Ravager facade would slip.

"I _mean_ it," The shorter man pressed. His gentle smile was back, twitching hands finally shoving the pair of glasses into his pocket. "I was just wandering around and figured I'd come introduce myself. But uhh... I'm pretty sure you and I have already met."

"We have?"

"I think so," The brunette took a deep breath. "You've met the Hulk, right? Strange told me. Big guy? Green?"

"Y _eee_ ah..." Where was he going with this?

There was an odd smile on that mouth again, an all-knowing twitch of his lips.

"I'm the Hulk." He said. No bullshit, no laugh, he looked the other man dead in the face and said _"I'm the Hulk."_ Quill's immediate disbelief must've shown on his face because the guy hurriedly added. "No, I mean it. That mean green guy? That's me."

"No." No no no. No way this guy was that huge, bumbling, green, muscle monster from the battle with Thanos. "No. That's not- ... _YOU?_ I don't believe it."

"Believe it. I'd show you, but this place doesn't look like it can handle another smashed staircase. I transform into the Hulk... It's hard to explain."

 _'_ Despite his suspicions, the guardian slowly nodded. He didn't have a reason _not_ to believe this guy. Granted, it sounded a little farfetched, but maybe even a _lie_ could work in his favor. If this guy was claiming to be the Hulk, then this was the guy that could get Peter out of here. They were technically already battle buddies, so that meant they were on good terms, right? This was Quill's chance to get some answers about where he'd landed,

Baby-Hulk beat him to it though. "Listen, I really need your help here, Star-Lord. Can I ask you a few questions?"

 _'No_ ' was what Quill wanted to say...

"Sure" he ended up grumbling. The thought of participating in another round of interrogation games made him want to punch a metal spike, but the Hulk looked desperate.

"You were there during the attack on Thor's refugee ship-"

"Yeah, we fought Thanos. He kicked our asses. You remember my name, but you don't remember the fight?"

The shorter man bit his lip.

"That's the funny thing about Hulk. We're the same, but different. I don't always snap out of it with every memory of his attached... and Strange told me your name." He looked down at his feet and back up, eyes serious. " _Please._ I need to know what happened. All of it, if you don't mind."

 _Pfff._ So Strange was talking about him, eh? That certainly put him in a shit mood.

Quill shrugged, hands moving to rest inside his coat pockets. It was fine. He could suffer through a quick retelling. It's not like he had anything to hide about the mess. Besides, Baby-Hulk had been nothing but friendly to him so far.

"My team and I followed a distress call from a ship that said it had children on board. By the time we got there, the titan Thanos had wiped most of ...of... th-there were already a lot of casualties." he spoke slowly, watching the other's face crumble a bit. There was no better way to say it though. It was the truth. He could still hear the way Rocket's heavy curse made him turn his head towards the viewpoint. It was a sight Quill would never forget. _Senseless destruction-_ That's all he could have the strength to call it.

He continued to explain the skirmish between Thor's friends, the guardians, and Thanos' followers, how Hulk had charged at Thanos first and started a fight that would eventually pull Star-Lord into it too. It wasn't an easy story to tell. The most difficult part was telling him about their failure, how the titan had beat them both down and threatened Star-Lord's life over an infinity stone.

"An infinity stone?" Baby-Hulk whispered. He knew exactly what Quill was talking about. "Did he get it?"

"I don't know. The ground opened up after that."

Anything could have happened. Peter Quill had disappeared, but the other guardians remained. Any one of them could have been used as leverage in his place. Even though Gamora was closer to him than the others, Quill couldn't see her letting any one of the die. They were family. Once again, the terrifying thought occurred to him that the rest of his friends could be dead... that Peter may be the only surviving member of the Guardian's of the Galaxy.

_"I see you've found our guest, Dr. Banner."_

The third voice to enter the conversation wasn't a happy one.

Doctor Strange, in all his prissy glory, stood brooding in the doorway. His light colored eyes were scanning the room for misplaced _somethings,_ acting thoroughly annoyed.

"Hey! Yeah, we were just looking around." Hulk answered, not at all bothered by the magic man's presence. Quill, however, unconsciously took a few steps back as soon as he noticed Strange standing there. That stupid little speck a fear left over from their earlier encounter was bubbling up like acid reflux. It seemed his chance of escaping was officially foiled

"I can see that. And not touching any of the relics, I hope. Some of them can be fickle things." The way the man's lips curved up at the corners made it seem like Strange had hoped _very much_ that they had touched the relics. The guardian glared. What the hell did "fickle" mean?

"Nah, we were being polite tourists. Getting better acquainted." Hulk grinned like he and Strange were in on some joke. It made Quill's stomach hurt and his blood boil. "But seriously, I believe what he says about Thanos, Stephen. His story checks out. He's on our side."

Hold up

" _Stephen?"_ the third wheel in the room choked. Quill wasn't even sorry about the loud snort that sounded from his nose. _Stephen?_ Said so plainly like the two of them had been friends for years? "So you guys are already on first-name basis? _That's cute."_

Strange gave him a irritated look, eyes locking on his for the first time since stepping into the room.

"Hmm." he sneered. "And here I thought _we_ were on first-name basis, _Star-Lord_. I guess it's safe to say that your first name isn't Star?"

 _Ha_.

"No, you're right." Quill smiled sweetly. "It _is_. And my middle name is Fuck-Off."

"Really? Is that what Mommy used to call you?"

 **"Stop it."** Hulk snapped. He was standing between them, hands out stretched like he'd be able to stop whoever threw the first punch. Quill must have looked like a wreck, sweaty and red faced, eyes glaring daggers at the son-of-a-bitch _stupid_ enough to mention his mother.

"Enough. I said _**STOP**_." Hulk's hand pushed at his chest. "We're not doing this anymore, alright? End of story. Clean slate. Kiss and make up."

 _Clean slate?_ That made it sound so easy. Yeah, _Nope._ The hate Quill had for Doctor Jerk-Off wouldn't go away on the Hulk's say so, but still... he respected Baby-Hulk enough to go along with it for now.

Surprisingly, Strange looked like he'd come to that same conclusion.

"I trust Dr. Banner's judgment." was all he said, but it was meant to mean that he still didn't trust Quill as far as he could throw him. _Pffsh!_ As if the guardian gave a damn.

His rival turned his back then, stopping just as he passed through the doorway to add "If you're going to be joining us, Star-Lord, then you might want to use the showers."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"Or you can continue to wear your own vomit." The man glanced back over his shoulder, face neutral. "It's up to you."

Quill blinked and looked down at himself.

 _Oh._ Well, what else could he have said? No? I'll stay gross, thanks?

"I'll use the showers..."

* * *

...

_Uuugghh._

He was too damn tired for this. Strange moved quickly (too quickly) down a set of narrow stairs and Quill struggled to keep up. This was slowly turning into the longest day of his entire life. From the fight, to the fall, to this mess of an adventure, he'd never be so happy to finally make it back to the Milano... if she was still even in existence.

"In here." The nightmare magician impatiently called.

Quill sighed and followed the blue robes through a set of double doors. As soon as his nose made contact with the smell of new carpet, he found himself suddenly having the energy to look around. The room he was in looked completely out of place compared to everything else he'd seen. It was new _everything_ , zero wood, zero dust, zero half-assed lighting,

"Whoa." slipped from his mouth before he could catch it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Strange smirk.

"This is my room." Magic Man explained. A shaky finger pointed to his right where another door led into a white-tiled refresher. "The bathroom is in there. I'll assume you know how that all works."

Stepping further into the beautifully upholstered dwelling, Quill was amazed at how clean everything was. It even smelled clean, with only a slight hint of cologne that was distinctly Doctor Strange. The last time he'd smelled it this strongly, the asshole had been leaning over and scaring the life out of him while he was strapped to a bed.

Not a fun memory.

"Mm. Wait-" The thinner man slipped by him without touching and bent down in front of a dresser. With a flick of his hand, it opened and he pulled out a solid black shirt and black pants. "These might be a little tight, but they'll work for now. When you're done, take the elevator down to the first floor. Don't take the stairs. Obviously. There's gaping hole in them."

Quill nodded awkwardly and took the clothes.

"We'll be in the library." the sorcerer continued, edging back towards the hall. "With Dr. Banner there for moral support, I hope you'll be more inclined to answer my questions."

 _'I'll be more inclined to punch you in the face'_ is what he wanted to say, but Quill was smart enough to realize he was only getting out of this by the skin of his teeth. As painful as it was, Star-Lord said nothing.

"Right." Strange clicked, reading Quill's silence like an open book. " Well, if you need anything, just remind yourself you're on thin ice and get over it."

He nearly bit his tongue off trying to ignore that one, but luckily the Jerk turned and left before Quill's mind could even come up with anything to say. Once he was sure Strange was out of earshot he let a single insult go, savoring the way it filled the room.

_"Asshole."_

Whatever. Let it go and do what you gotta do. -That saying worked for his tiffs with rocket, it would work for Strange too. He had to stop letting that guy get to him.

The bathroom worked pretty much the same as all refreshers did, thank god. His first order of business was to clean off his jacket. It was the only thing he was scared to lose and he would NOT be setting it somewhere Strange could purposely misplace it. When he was finished he wiped it down with a towel and hung it on a hook by the door.

"Perfect. Me next." He didn't really know what to do about his dirtied shirt and pants, so he cleaned those by hand too and hung them on the same hook. They probably wouldn't air-dry all crammed together like that, but all he really cared about was the jacket. Unless those pants Strange gave him didn't fit...

Ah well. He'd cross that bridge when he got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder: This is a SLOW burn Strange/Quill romance. Big thanks to everyone still on board and get ready for some more Avengers. This timeline will follow the film from here on out... for the most part ;)


	7. Iron Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shower musings, friendly encounters, and sling rings.

The water pouring over his tired muscles did nothing to ease the anxiety brewing in Peter Quill's brain. His damning thoughts consumed him. It felt like he was being dragged and suspended over a dark cavern with no rock bottom. One wrong move, one misstep, and he'd be thrown into oblivion. His world would crumble and, once again, he would be alone.

_"For fucks sake"_

He almost couldn't bear it. Sitting in the pit of his stomach was a god awful feeling that something horrible had happened to his friends. The moment he fell, Star-Lord had left the Guardians of the Galaxy for dead... or at least that's what the voices in his head were hissing. It was crushing guilt, helplessness, hopelessness, and a worry _so_ overpowering that it physically pained him. He wanted to make it stop. He wanted to curl in on himself and scream until everything went back to normal, until he was on his ship again bickering with Rocket, or yelling at Groot to pick up after himself, or flirting with Gamora,

_Gamora_

Where was she? Was she alright? Was she dead? Were _all_ of them dead?

The cascading rivulets over his head worked together to form a steady beat that was warm and gentle. Despite the shower's sauna level heat though, Quill was frozen. He was staring, eyes watching droplets of water collect in a mounted soap dish as his left hand pressed absently into the red lines crossing his chest. His other hand was braced against the wall in front of his grimacing face, blunt nails digging into the creases between off-white tiles. 

"... not my fault, I didn't know, I couldn't stop it, "

All rational excuses he kept repeating to himself, but the guilt was _relentless_. It was a wild fire that was eating up his ability to focus.

This was pointless. He had to breathe, he had to _think_. What's most important is the problem at hand, and Quill currently had A LOT of problems. The situation he'd found himself in was by no means a good one, and wasting time on What-Ifs wasn't going to help. The best thing for him to do was swallow his fears and keep moving forward. Hopefully, when he reached the end of his mess, his friends would be waiting for him there.

"Focus, Quill."

Right. Fact check:  
He was on a human-inhabited planet that called itself _Arth_ (dumb name, still he's heard worse).  
Their technology was limited, from what he'd experienced so far. (common, not surprising)   
He'd made one enemy and one _maybe_ -friend. (also not surprising)

 _One_ enemy wasn't a bad thing. Quill was used to unfriendly company. There had always been at least one a-hole strongly rooting for him to lose wherever he went. The problem with Doctor Strange being that _one enemy_ though, was that Strange was a terrible enemy to have. The man was a magician-sorcerer- _whatever-the-fuck_ , and it was an awful mix of intimidation and confusion that had the guardian floundering in his presence instead of being on his guard. So changeable, so unreadable... Strange had the personality of an old seasoned knight of the round table, sardonic and judgmental, with a bite of modern speech that added a level of complexity Quill had never before encountered. It would have been endearing if Strange hadn't been SUCH a dick.

Annoyingly, that was about all Quill knew about the guy. His full powers and potential were still unknown. In fact, the most dangerous thing about the sorcerer had to be his mystery. There was still so much he didn't know about the man. One thing for certain, Strange didn't like him. That was more than enough to put him on the _proceed with caution_ list

Funny enough, that same cloud of mystery shrouded his _maybe-_ friend too, but in a completely different way. That _maybe_ -friend, of course, was the Hulk.  Quill didn't have the faintest clue how or why the seemingly-human man would change into a giant green beast, but he could definitely dig it. The man/monster had been so kind and friendly, a personality like that was easy to click with. Still, was his maybe-friendship enough to secure his safety on this planet?

He didn't know.

And if he didn't know something, he would always prepare for the worst. That's what Yondu had taught him. "Be on your own side" would be his advice for situations like this.

He couldn't put his trust in Hulk and risk being an easy-throwaway.  Quill wanted to kick Thanos' ass, but not alongside _these_ guys. His best bet would be to fish for the quickest way off this planet _before_ they pulled him into something dangerous. Entering a battle with no true friends was a death wish. To them, the mysterious Star-Lord was nothing but an expendable fighter; they didn't have his back, they wouldn't be team players. Not their fault maybe, this planet simply didn't know him. It was just even more reason for Quill to make a quick exit. He knows how games like this work. Yondu didn't raise an idiot.

Quill took a shaky breath in and pulled the metal handle _all_ the way to the right. The temperature of the water immediately began to increase, the heat of it toeing the lines of unbearable. He breathed in again and let the steam fill his lungs until he coughed.

Easy.

Cool it.

Relax.

This was fine. Everything would turn out fine. It usually always did _(usually)._ Baby-Hulk was a level-headed guy. As soon as he was finished in here, he'd go to Strange's stupid library and casually ask Hulk how he could get his hands on a ship. Worst case, Hulk doesn't know. Best case, Quill was out of here. No big deal.

The guardian groaned and rubbed his hands over his damp face. It was a waste of time standing in here. Anyway, if he stayed in the shower too long he'd probably have Strange up here calling through the door like some angry step-father.

_HA!_

That thought actually made him laugh. _Imagine_ that? Oh man. He was almost tempted to try it, see how long he could stay in the bathroom with the water running before someone came yelling at him to turn it off. It'd be so freakin hilarious!

Lost in his own _much needed_ fit of giggles, Quill carelessly let his right foot step back off the plastic shower mat. He leaned, placing all of his body's weight on that one side...

The consequences were instant.

 _"Shit!"_ The world lurched, his other foot moved to back to help keep him standing only to slip too. Like a floundering 3-year-old, the adult man gasped and staggered. Pale arms flew up to brace himself against the tiled walls and stricken green eyes closed and braced for pain.

And _BOY_ did pain come.

He fell hard and it fucking _hurt_. His bare ass hit the solid surface with an unforgiving slap that would have reddened his face more than his behind if he hadn't hit is head too. His large shoulders contact with the wall first, then the back of his head. It wasn't too hard of a crack, but hard enough to darken his vision for a moment. Never a dull moment in the life of Peter Quill, apparently. Even showers were full of misadventures. It was the perfect icing on top of an already dry, stale, lop-sided 3 tiered cake.

"Argh! fuuuuck. What did I do to deserve this?"  This was because he mixed shit in Taserface's dinner twenty years ago, wasn't it? That didn't seem fair. It wasn't _his_ shit...  Taserface didn't even notice. 

Having to peel himself off the wet shower floor might've sucked more than the fall. Quill angrily rubbed his sore head and slammed his hand down on the shower's metal handle. The water turned off.

Weren't showers supposed to be relaxing? Somehow he'd ended up feeling worse than when he went in, just cleaner... and with a lovely new bruise on his ass.

" _Lovely_." Thankfully there was a clean towel waiting for him on the rack, or at least it looked clean. Whatever. Doesn't matter. He snatched it up and began drying off.

The black jeans Strange let him borrow were a little rough, holes here and there with a tear at the knee. It was fine. The frayed strings kinda reminded him of his mother's old concert getup. They were a little small on him too, _tight_ , and sitting a bit lower than what he normally would consider comfortable... _definitely_ concert pants. Quill had been to concerts before, but on other planets concerts were usually more formal with music that wasn't always pleasing to the ears. He remembered how his mother would dress down in just her ripped jeans and a paint covered shirt before dropping Peter off at his grandparents. She said she would take him one day when he was older. Hm. Well, it was on his bucket list to return to Terra one day and go to one of those dress-down concerts. Maybe if he lived through all of this he'd get up the courage to revisit Missouri.

Bah. He had more important things to think about now, like how the black shirt Strange had given him was somehow too big... hmm.

Well, no point in dragging this out any longer. If he wanted to get off this planet, he was going to have to play nice. Easier said than done, for sure, but he didn't really have a choice. He took one last deep breath in and slowly letting it out, right hand twisting the doorknob until it clicked open.

The cold air hit him like a shock of electricity.

Where did Strange tell him to go? The Library? Quill supposed he should turn off the lights, but he couldn't find the light switch. They were usually next to the door right? That's universal bathroom 101. Switches were right inside the door so that when you entered you turned it on and when you exited...  "Where the hell? "

_"It's on the other side of the sink."_

Peter shrieked and jumped back. One hand scrambled to brace himself on the molding, the other gripped the cotton of his oversized shirt.

Baby-Hulk was leaning on the wall just inside Strange's bedroom door, smirking like he was trying to hold back a laugh. His arms were folded and relaxed. The messy brown hair on his head was dry now, combed over the tips of his ears, and the purple sleeves of his blouse were rolled up to the elbows.

" _Oh my god._ Man, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry," Hulk shrugged, smirk melting into a sheepish cringe. "We heard something fall up here. I wanted to make sure you weren't dead or bleeding."

Quill mentally slapped himself. _Of course_ they heard. This day was too much.

"O _hhhhh_. You heard that."

"Yeah, a loud thud that made the lights flicker." The brunette pushed off the wall and took a casual seat on the side of Strange's bed. "Did you slip or something? Are you alight?"

"I'm fine." God, his face felt like it was on fire. "I uhhh... I accidentally bumped into stuff and knocked it over. It's fine though. All good. Everything's good."

"Okay. good." He must've sounded like a madman, but Hulk was kind enough to let it go. Quill couldn't tell if the twitch at the corner of the man's mouth was because he knew the truth, or because Quill's lie was so stupid... probably both.   "Good. As long as you're alright."

The blonde awkwardly nodded, hoping he didn't look as embarrassed as he felt. Dying to do something in that moment other than show Hulk his red cheeks, he turned and resumed his search for the light switch. What did he mean it was on the _other side of the mirror_? He didn't see anything there.

"I also came up here to apologize."

"Hm?" Quill paused his search and gave the other man a questioning look. Did he say _apologize_? Baby-Hulk had been nothing but nice to him, so far. What did he have to apologize for?

"-For what happened upstairs." Hulk clarified, hands fidgeting in his lap. "That conversation with Strange was a little intense."

Oh...

 _Pffshhhhhh!_ Wait- So he was apologizing for _Doctor Weird's_ antics?  No. He wouldn't let him do that.

"You don't have to be sorry." He snorted and ran a frustrated hand through his wet hair. Where the fuck was that switch?  "You're a nice guy. Strange is the one who's a jerk-turd."

Hulk let himself laugh at that.  " _Jerk-turd_. Okay, I can get behind that one."

"Yeah. A _super_ jerk-turd. The only reason he let me go was because of _you_."

The memory of Doctor Strange's stoic eyes showing no mercy in the face of Peter's distress was still lingering on the surface of the guardian's nerves. If Hulk hadn't been so kind to him, If he hadn't made the effort, Quill might still be strapped to that bed or WORSE.   "I'm not trying to insult your friend... Well _yeah_ I _am_ trying to insult him. He's an A-hole. But what I mean to say is _thank_ _you_."

It was the Hulk's turn to look surprised.

"Thank me for what?"

"You told him I was telling the truth. You didn't even remember me, but you still backed me up. That was cool."

Hulk opened his mouth, then closed it. Looking down at his own hands, a string of expressions crossed the man's face. It made the gentle human in front of him look more like the Hulk he had met during the fight with Thanos.

"Hulk thrives on emotions" he said. "I never remember the details, but the feelings... I _always_ remember those."

He looked up at Quill's confused face and continued  "The Hulk saw you as a battle buddy. He trusted you, as cheesy as that sounds. It wasn't hard for me to dig up those old feelings when I saw your face."

Ah. So somewhere deep down, this version of the Hulk _did_ remember him?  They had fought alongside each other, he'd cracked a few jokes, landed a few good blows when the green beast was in trouble. Had he really made _that_ big of an impression?

" _Battle buddies_."  He liked the sound of that. This was just what he needed until he could find a way off this planet: Someone who had his back!

So, cracking the biggest grin he could muster, Quill stuck out his hand.

"Let's make it official then.  I'm Peter Quill."

Baby-Hulk looked a little startled, but quickly offered up his own friendly lopsided smile and took the guardian's hand.

"Bruce Banner."

Hmm. So his name wasn't Baby-Hulk? That was a tad disappointing. Banner let go of his hand and brushed passed him into the refresher. On the other side of the mirror, hiding behind a bottle of hand soap, was the light switch Quill had been looking for.

"Oh _come on_. That's not even fair. Who puts a light switch that far into a room?"

"It's three steps-"

"Three steps into darkness. Three steps into the _unknown_."

The warm look in Banner's eyes was back and, again, the man laughed.  The moments that followed were the most relaxed Quill had felt since this mess started. Banner was no longer a "maybe-friend", he decided. You can't click that well with a dude and not call them a friend. Quill wasn't fool enough to put all of his trust in the guy just yet, but this was a great start to having at least a little bit of the weight lifted from his shoulders.

After a few more minutes of random chatting, the two made their way down the hall.

"Sooo..." Banner gave him a teasing look as they approached the elevator. "Star-Lord?"

"Yeah- you know, it's like my cool outlaw name." He shrugged. "My alter ego."

"And Peter Quill is your real name."

"Yep."

The shorter man hummed, hitting a glowing button on the far wall with his thumb. The elevator doors immediately slid open to reveal an old metal cabin inside. "Okay, I get it . I guess I just didn't expect your name to be so...  Are you from Earth?"

Quill blinked. "I'm from Missouri."

"So you _are_ from Earth?"

"No, Missouri is on Terra."

Banner gave him an odd look, jaw hanging slightly.

"...Okay,"  He stepped into the elevator and stood, gesturing for the guardian to follow. "So which name do you prefer? Star-Lord or Peter?"

"In front of Dr. Weird?" Quill moves to stand beside Banner." _Star-Lord._ Strange already thinks I'm some double agent. Adding another name to my mystery might be too much for his little magic-brain to handle."

" _Ha_ -  Okay, your secret is safe with me." Banner shook his head.

The cabin gave a jolt like it was the first time it's had to carry people in over a century. The guardian cleared his throat and looked up, wishing he could see what kind of system this thing ran on. He wouldn't be surprised if this cardboard box was nothing but a lever and a couple of heavy rocks. Technology was _not_ this planet's strongpoint.

"Don't let Strange get to you." Banner said after a few seconds of silence. "It's a protective layer. He's only nice to me because there's physical proof of where I stand in this. If I was in your boat, he'd have the same suspicions."

"Yeeeah, I don't know about that."

The friction between him and Strange had blossomed the moment they'd met eyes. It was like they were two opposing sides of a magnet. True, Quill's quips and sarcasm hadn't helped matters, but Strange had chosen to be hostile first.

"Just try to take it easy with him, okay? Take the high road and be civil. It will help, I promise."

The elevator opened and Bruce exited first, leading Quill straight to the stain-glass doors of what he assumed was the library. He let Banner get the door and then followed in behind.

"Oh shh-" It was no use. He didn't bother smothering his awe. It was unlike any library Quill had ever seen. Technically, the last library he'd stepped foot in was his old school library. This definitely did NOT look like anything from St. Charles Elementary. 

It was elaborate. The ceiling was vaulted, shooting straight up into dark dusty rafters. Objects of all kinds littered the tables, books and books and more books lining the walls and pillows were fucking EVERYWHERE. How many decorative pillows does one room need?

In the dead center of the room, there was a collection of sofas and chairs. Doctor Strange was seated comfortably in an armchair, looking calm and stirring a steaming cup of _something_ in his hands. He looked over while taking a careful sip, giving Quill an unreadable once over.

"Take a seat." Strange waved his hand to the brown leather sofa across from him. The flippant gesture made Quill want to turn around and walk right back out of the doors. Instead, he took a deep breath and followed Banner's lead, sitting himself down without so much as a hiss.

'Be civil.' His friend had said. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to try.

Quill was feeling nervous. Not _scared_ , just nervous. Even though it was clear that he had a friend in Banner, he still didn't know what to expect from his "enemy" Doctor Strange. The guardian's eyes darted around the room, catching sight of another man sitting at a desk off to the side. His frowning face was staring down at a large open book. Instead of turning the pages with his hand, the pages were turning themselves.

"Would you like something to drink?"

The guardian's head snapped back around. Strange was giving him a pointed look. "Would you like something to drink?" he repeated.

"No" was what he was about to say but, before he could, a glass of water appeared in his hand.

An embarrassing choking noise escaped him as he fumbled to hold onto the glass properly. Could this guy seriously summon beverages from out of thin air? Quill didn't know if he should be impressed or worried. Such a simple thing, but Strange might have a whole _array_ of crazy capabilities stemming from this magic crap. He certainly wasn't going to be the one to ask.

"Ah- uhh. Thanks?"  Oooh No. That sounded weak. He quickly cleared his throat and tried again "Th-Thank you for this-uhh creepy glass of water."

 _Jesus._ Well, he tried.

Luckily, the man didn't comment. His stoic eyes shifted immediately over to Banner, shaky hands stirring his own steaming teacup like conjuring magic beverages was nothing out of the ordinary. "Dr. Banner?"

"Coffee, please." Banner was a little less taken-aback when his appeared, having been able to at least prepare himself for the straight up weirdness.

"I need you to repeat the story you told Dr. Banner." Strange leaned forward like Quill was a child being reprimanded. "Unless you think that fall you took in the shower has dampened your memory. "

The guardian bit the inside of his cheek.

Like an award winning referee, Banner coughed a bit on his coffee and quickly said "You know what? _I_ can retell it, if that's fine."

Strange looked annoyed. Banner was trying to suffocate a fire before it even started, an idiot could see that. Whatever. Quill didn't want to retell that shit-show again anyway, not to Strange, not to anyone.

During Banner's quick retell, the sorcerer would periodically glance over at him. The scrutiny was putting him on edge, so he chose to look around the room. He nearly leapt from his chair when he noticed a red cape-looking thing floating in mid-air behind Strange's chair. No strings attached, just _floating_. He couldn't tear his eyes away from it.

"The earth is in trouble if he gets his hands on those stones" He heard Banner say, "The whole universe is in trouble. Thanos already has one-"

"Three." Quill automatically corrected, blinking his gaze away from the disturbing cloak to look between the two men.

" _Three_ stones?" Banner sputtered. "Wait... What? He only had _one_ before I turned into the Hulk."

The guardian shook his head. Maybe he shouldn't have said it. He didn't know for sure...

"How do you _know_?" Strange asked with a little more force.

"He had two stones in his gauntlet when he threatened me: Purple and Blue." He sighed. "And he was already trying to force my friend to tell him where another stone was."

"You think he got it?" Banner asked.

"I don't know."

Bruce blinked rapidly and looked over at Strange, mouth opening and closing like a fish. The sorcerer, however, had a very different reaction... or more accurately: _no_ reaction. He sat unmoving, eyes trained on Quill's face and said  "If you're unsure, then it's best to assume he did."

_Best to assume he did._

Quill's heart ached. If Thanos did have that third stone, what did that mean for Gamora? What did that mean for his friends?

"Did your friend tell you where the stone was?"

"No."

Strange nodded, seeming to accept his words as truth. Banner set his coffee on the table and dropped his face in his hands.

"Shit. This is a lot farther along than we thought it was. We need to get the Avengers. We need to contact Tony Stark."

_Who?_

Strange stood and Banner stood with him, leaving a very confused Quill sitting with his full glass of water.

"I can manage that" the sorcerer dug through his robes, pulling out what looked like a small hunk of metal. "We'll make it quick. I need you to come with me."

"Absolutely."

Both men moved away from the sofa and towards an empty spot in the room.

"Wong," Strange called to the silent man in the back of the room. "Make sure Mr. Star doesn't move."

Quill frowned as soon as he realized Strange was talking about him. He was fine with staying put for a few minutes, but the childish brat inside him didn't like being ordered around... by _Strange_ of all people.

The anger dissipated somewhat as soon as he saw the sorcerer's arms move. It looked like golden sparks were shooting out from Strange's hands, but he couldn't tell if they were coming from his actual hands or the odd metal thing in his palm. The sparks formed a circle and, to Quill's astonishment, the two men disappeared.

The glass of water dropped from his hand and shattered on the floor.

"Impressive, I know." Wong said as if it was just fact. Quill turned to eye him. The man hadn't even looked up. His face was still scanning that dusty old book on the desk in front of him. "The sling ring allows us to travel through the multiverse. It's wearer visualizes a destination-"

"And it takes them there." The guardian finished. _Wow._ That is one convenient hunk of metal. "What would it take for guy like me to get my hands on one of those bad boys?"

Wong _did_ look up then, face unnervingly dry.

"It takes years of training and focus for one's mind to manipulate the world around them," He closed the book with a hash thud and added "-provided you find a master willing to teach you."

That bit was probably meant to insult him, but Quill didn't feel the sting. His mind was too busy repeating the word "years" over and over. It would take _years_ to master teleportation? Hm. That sounded like a lot of work.

"Pass." he shrugged and hopped over the mess of glass and water. He was a terrible study. Learning on the fly was more his style-  _Ooo!_  Fly! That flying cape was crazy! He should ask about that. Were they like pets? Could he buy one somewhere?

"Where are you from, Star-Lord?"

Quill whipped back around to look at Wong. The man's focus was completely on him now, book closed and laying forgotten on the desk. For a split second he thought the man was trying to look down on him, asking only to scoff in disgust when he received an answer, but surprisingly he seemed genuinely curious.

He shouldn't say. He shouldn't answer any questions that were personal. Anything that is told to Wong will surely be used against him, right? But how could telling him where he came from be used against him? It was a harmless question...

"Missouri." It was the most truthful answer he could offer. "I was kidnapped by space pirates when I was a kid though. We traveled everywhere. Never in one place too long."

Wong cocked his head to the side, giving him a thoughtful look. He looked like he wanted to ask another question, but it wasn't coming to the surface. Did he want to know more than that or was this just polite conversation? Maybe he should ask where Wong was from?

He was never given the chance. A shower of sparks burst from the air right over the spot Strange and Banner had left in. A golden circle formed and Quill couldn't help himself, he stared like a child witnessing an intricate card trick. It was one of the coolest things he'd ever seen in is life and he'd seen a lot of shit. Teleportation was new though. Imagine being able to simply think of a place and then be there? It would certainly make stealing a lot easier... erm.. if he was still into that kind of thing...

"Okay, Okay, Okay," Quill heard the crisp confident voice before he saw who it belonged to. A man, roughly a few feet shorter than himself, emerged from the glowing circle looking mildly bewildered by his sudden new surroundings. "Whoa. Alright."

Quill stood still, unsure what to do with himself when the man's eyes landed on him. This human had to be in his fifties. The dark hair on his head was accented with gray and his beard was salt and pepper. Brown weathered eyes, large and curious, looked between him and Wong and then to the closed stained glass doors.

"Are you guys wizards too?  Orrr..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce knows damn well what Terra is. (lol)  
> Sorry about the wait, I hope the length of this chapter made up for it. I love love love me some Tony Stark and he's finally made it to the party ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comment and kudos if you'd like to see this wacky adventure continue <3


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